


We're Already Over the Rainbow

by sapphic_ambitions



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Song fic, just pure freaking fluff babey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 18:57:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18762427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphic_ambitions/pseuds/sapphic_ambitions
Summary: Quentin comes home.





	We're Already Over the Rainbow

Sometimes, Quentin hated living in New York City, and today was one of those days. The rain was coming down in waves. It was drenching the streets like it was the end of days, filling every crevice of every sidewalk with an endless puddle. The taxicabs were sloshing water onto every pedestrian ever time they got close to the curb, and you could barely see the sky scrapers through the dark clouds and the watery hell they brought down.

And Quentin had forgotten his umbrella.

Today of all days, he forgot to check the forecast before he left the apartment and was surprised when, at the end of his work day, armageddon was pouring buckets into the streets. The bookshop he worked at was only a fifteen minute walk from their apartment, so the commute was normally a peaceful way for him to get some exercise and some sunshine. That would not be the case today, he thought as he stared out the bookshop’s window. But Quentin Coldwater had faced gods and monsters and dragons and Death itself and survived, so he could face a little rain. Right?

After wrapping the contents of his messenger bag up in trash bags and turning off everything in the shop, Quentin braved the rain. And it was so _fucking_ cold. November was normally a cold time, he knew that like, logically. And it wasn’t quite cold enough to come down as snow, though that might have been nicer than the sleeting rain. If it was snowing, he might have stopped to take some pictures of the park or taken his time to casually stroll, instead of speeding along with his head tucked into his chest. He might be a Coldwater but that didn’t mean that he liked cold water.

Q laughed to himself as he crossed the street, and then shivered immediately afterwards. But three more blocks and he would be home, safe from the rain, safe from the cold, safe from the weird ass strangers he passed on the street. The thought of home kept his feet sloshing through the puddles and through the storm. The thought of warm clothes and a cup of tea and kiss from his love kept his legs pushing one foot in front of the other.

Finally, Quentin reached their apartment building and practically flung himself into the warm lobby. He sent an apologetic smile at the receptionist for dripping all over the lobby as he made his way to the elevator, but he didn’t actually feel that bad. The ride up to their floor seemed longer than normal, as his drenched clothes and long hair stuck to him uncomfortably and made him shiver. This whole day seemed to be one long journey to get back to the safety of his home, which was not uncommon for Fridays, he supposed.  

Unlocking his apartment door never felt so good.

Immediately upon entering his apartment, he was hit with smells and sounds that filled his soul. The smell was that of a vanilla candle burning and sizzling garlic. No doubt, his partner was starting to cook dinner, and the scent of whatever was cooking wafted throughout the entire apartment. It was a nice smell to be hit with after trudging through the streets of NYC that always smelled a little bit like piss and trash and wet dog. But those smells were wiped away from him and replaced with the aroma of home.

_~~(Home.)~~ _

The sound that hit him when he walked in was his favorite sound in the whole world: 1940s ballads. It was a nice welcome, to hear his favorite music after the insanity of the world outside. There was no specific reason he loved the music from that era, but something about the grandeur and romance of the orchestras made him feel peaceful. The other inhabitant of the apartment also loved the music from that era, but more because he loved the soundtracks from classic movies. Quentin could hear one of them now, as the intro to “Over the Rainbow” softly drifted through their home.

_(Home.)_

Quentin, without taking off his shoes or his bag or coat, silently made his way to the kitchen, where he was greeted his favorite sight in the whole world: Eliot.

(Home.)

Just as Q suspected, Eliot was cooking dinner, with his ingredients spread across their countertops and the apron Q had gotten him tied around his torso. El was so caught up in his cooking and his music that he didn’t heart Quentin come in, but that was fine with him. He leaned against the doorway and watched El move with a little sway in his hips as he cooked. And then El started singing along and Q thought he was going to melt.

_“Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high,_

_There’s a land that I’ve heard of, once in a lullaby,_

_Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue,_

_And the dreams that I dream really do come true,”_

Quentin had heard his partner sing hundreds of times, at karaoke nights and in the shower and serenading him on romantic dates and each of those moments were amazing, but this,  _this_ was his favorite version of Eliot singing. Where he wasn’t singing to perform, he wasn’t projecting, he was just quietly and mindlessly singing to himself. Quentin changed his mind: this was his favorite sound in the whole world. His love’s voice  _(like velvet),_  paired with the rain pattering against the window? It was… it was everything to him.

It was….

_“Someday I’ll wish upon a star and wake up_

_Where the clouds are far behind me_

_Where troubles melt like lemon drops_

_Away above the chimney tops,_

_That’s where you’ll find me,”_

**Home.**

_“Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebird fly_

_Birds fly over the rainbow, why oh why can’t I?”_

Quentin cleared his throat, and Eliot spun on his heel. Upon seeing his partner, Eliot’s face lit up in a warm smile, and for a moment, Q was taken back to the day he moved into the cottage. It seemed like so long ago, and everything was different, and yet, the feeling in his chest was the same.

“Honey, I’m home,” Quentin said, and Eliot scanned him up and down.

“Baby, you are dripping everywhere,” Eliot said, but there was a soft smile on his face. “I’m not kissing you until you’re dry,” Quentin grinned and moved closer, and Eliot held the spoon up. “Q, don’t you dare,”

“Don’t what?” Quentin teased, stepping closer. “Can’t I kiss my love?”

“Not when you’re drenched!” Eliot said, taking a step back.

Quentin shot him a playful frown, and tugged at Eliot’s apron. “But your apron says to kiss the cook, and you’re the cook…”

“Quentin Makepeace Coldwater, I swear to Ember and Umber-”

Quentin cut him off by tugging on the apron one more time and pulling him into a kiss. Eliot made a startled noise, but he couldn’t resist placing a hand on the back of his love’s neck and pulling him closer. The kiss was warm and comforting, despite the fact that Quentin was still cold and shivering. When they pulled away, they pressed their foreheads together and grinned.

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that later,” Eliot teased.

“Oh, I hope so,” Quentin whispered back, giving El’s ass just a  _little_ squeeze.

Eliot laughed, kissed his forehead, and pushed on his chest. “Go get into some dry clothes, Coldwater,”

Quentin obliged and took his dripping self out of the kitchen. He didn’t quite make it back to their bedroom before he turned to look over his shoulder and just watched Eliot again, soaking it in.

The sizzling of the raw chicken that Eliot just dropped in the pan.

The next song that came up on the playlist, another old ballad.

Eliot, humming to himself as he worked in the kitchen.

The rain puttering against their window panes.

The happy twinge in his heart that filled his entire chest.

It didn’t matter what city or world he was in. 

As long as he had Eliot, he was home.

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say? I'm on a song fic fluff kick right now.


End file.
